


cool when you feel it (hot, but it's turning down)

by bodytoflame



Series: fragile heart [15]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Female Percy Jackson, Genderbending, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodytoflame/pseuds/bodytoflame
Summary: prompt: “you’re really red right now” with fem!percabeth
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: fragile heart [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553368
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	cool when you feel it (hot, but it's turning down)

**i swear you move slow motion**   
**watching you looks like bending time**

**slow motion ..//.. flor**

* * *

_“Percy, Annabeth. Show ‘em how it’s done.”_

It's a simple request, one they've heard many times, and Annabeth is certain this one won't be the last. They're skilled fighters, and a perfect match in skill level, so it makes perfect sense for them to demonstrate what sparring practice looks like.

Percy uncaps Riptide, prompting hushed whispers and gasps from some of the newer campers, and Annabeth retrieves her own sword. She still preferred a smaller blade, but training with Percy she'd gotten quite good with a sword.

Annabeth's brain runs on autopilot through the first minute of the match, expertly delivering and blocking blows, predicting every one of Percy's moves and reacting in turn. She barely has to think, it's all instinct until Riptide catches her sword at an angle that leaves them both struggling for the upper hand. There isn't an opening she can spot in her defenses, and she knows her own are airtight. Percy's too close to trip without bringing herself down with her, and too strong to think about overpowering. So it becomes a waiting game — and a test of endurance — to see who'll give in sooner.

Percy leans in closer towards her face, eyes narrowing, but her grip still just as strong on the hilt. “You’re really red right now, you know?”

It’s _distracting_ her, and Annabeth senses it immediately, taking advantage. She pushes harder against her blade, knocking her back just far enough to fully swing her own sword around, over her left shoulder. Percy barely blocks it in time, but the stalemate continues. “Not. Now.” Annabeth mumbles through gritted teeth.

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is insanely hot,” Percy speaks, a little bit louder this time. In truth, they’re both too flustered to worry about who might hear.

And Annabeth can feel her cheeks flush even hotter, something anyone else would chalk up to exertion. “Shut up.” For a second, she falters, she’s not sure where or how, but it’s enough for Percy, almost instantly, to kick her down to the ground. It knocks the wind out of her, landing on her back, her left leg trapping Percy’s foot, a consequence of tripping her.

Her heartbeat is thumping in her eardrums, faster than it should be for a fight of this intensity. Still, catching her breath in controlled gasps, she manages to catch Percy’s sword just inches from her neck; milliseconds away from a loss.

Annabeth internally curses her — curses the way she leans in close, _too close_ ; and how her hair brushes against her face, despite it only reaching just past her ears. She has to focus with every last bit of brain power just to keep her hands from shaking, let alone move her gaze from the depths of Percy’s eyes.

“You gonna give up?”

Annabeth answers, the struggle evident in her voice, but still with a slight edge to her tone. “You know me. I don’t give up.”

“This one’s mine, and you know it.”

She does know that — but it doesn’t make it any easier to admit. She wraps her leg around Percy’s, thinking a distraction of her own could be the only way out of this. And for a second, she thinks it might _actually_ work, Percy’s blade pulling away the slightest bit.

And then she speaks, soft, but dark, and laced with intent Annabeth knows will come later then they’re away from prying eyes, “Give up now?”

She presses forward, an unspoken ‘no’ — but Riptide’s edge makes it past her defenses by an incredibly narrow margin, resting just in front of her neck.

Annabeth doesn’t speak; doesn’t acknowledge the winning blow (for her pride), nor the smirk on Percy’s face — and certainly not the fact that the trust inherent between them speaks volumes to the way they fight, so sure of each other’s limits and ability to hold back. She’s won enough matches to know that same feeling — and putting her life in Percy’s hands isn’t a question, it’s an instinct. It's _expected_.

Percy stays perched over her for a second too long — even after she's returned her sword to her side — the applause from the other campers dying down as she stands, and offers a hand to Annabeth. She stows Riptide back in her pocket, and helps her up, purposefully jerking her arm back to pull her just a _bit_ too close. “Good match, babe,” she smirks, “but better luck next time.”

She frowns, trying to camouflage the blush that threatens her cheeks, again, when Percy calls her _that_ , even jokingly. There’s no witty response on the tip of her tongue, no sharp retort to shut her up and turn the tension around — so Annabeth says nothing.

Her hands linger, delicate, grazing Annabeth’s arms as she turns to face the other campers with a smile, “I'll see you later.”


End file.
